


Wife Pro Tempore

by Jeanie205



Category: The 100
Genre: F/M, Fake Wife, Not by the main characters, Referenced Mild Sexual Harrassment, bellarke modern au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-13 17:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13575168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeanie205/pseuds/Jeanie205
Summary: Bellamy’s in kind of a jam.  His new department head has been coming on to him and he hasn’t been able to get her to stop, so he’s invented a wife.  But now something’s come up and Bellamy needs to produce that wife.  Will he be able to persuade Clarke, his roommate and best friend, to help him out?





	Wife Pro Tempore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bellarkekittens](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Bellarkekittens).



> This started out to be a short little romcom... then somehow it got away from me. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> And now that we’re no longer anonymous I can thank my wonderful beta @Nell65 for all her help. Academia is her wheelhouse, not mine, and I could not have written this without her invaluable assistance.

“So the thing is,” Bellamy said, grabbing the remote and muting the volume to ensure he had the full attention of his roommate and best friend, “I need a wife.”

“What?” The spoon carrying the milk-soaked cornflakes tilted precariously halfway to Clarke’s mouth, spilling a few drops of liquid onto the quilt she’d tossed across her legs.

Bellamy’s shoulders drooped as he threw himself into the opposite corner of their thrift-shop couch.

“Pretty sure you know what a wife is, Clarke,” he muttered into his chin.

“Yeah,” she agreed, dropping the spoon into the bowl and carefully sliding it onto the coffee table, “but somehow I never connected the word with... you.” She frowned in confusion. “Is this a sudden inclination or has it been coming on for a while now?”

Clarke’s gut twisted in apprehension. Had Bellamy met someone recently that she hadn’t heard about? Someone he might actually consider... marrying? She turned to study him carefully, but his demeanor was not at all that of a man who’d found “true love.”

It was more like someone whose stress level was climbing into the stratosphere.

“What’s going on, Bellamy? I thought you had a meeting with your department head this afternoon. Did I get that wrong?”

He shook his head. “No, that’s right.”

“So did Professor Sinclair convince you a wife could, I don’t know, enhance your career prospects?” She frowned. “Isn’t that just a tiny bit, uh, old-fashioned?”

Bellamy looked away and sighed.

“Yeah, no. It wasn’t Professor Sinclair, it was the new department head, Professor Sydney. She was on sabbatical when I was hired, but she’s back this semester.”

Clarke was surprised. It was nearly the end of March and Bellamy had never mentioned having a new department head.

“And this is the first time you’ve met with her?”

Not that he’d had to let her know, of course. He certainly wasn’t obliged to make her aware of every little thing in his life. But somehow...that’s how they were, how they’d been almost from the beginning.

Bellamy was so easy to talk to, to confide in. She’d told him things about her life she’d never have dreamed of revealing to any of her previous roommates. In fact, if she were being honest, she was pretty sure Bellamy knew her better than either of her two long-term partners — not that either of those relationships had ended well. She guessed Bellamy must have felt the same. Certainly Raven always teased that she knew more about him than most wives...

The thought brought her right back to the beginning of their conversation.

“So you met with Professor Sydney and now you’re talking about needing a wife? Is there some connection? Because I’m not seeing it.”

Bellamy groaned, rubbing his hands distractedly across his face.

“This is a little...uh...embarrassing.”

Clarke scoffed. “Please. Who had to ask her male roommate to run to CVS for emergency tampons last week because she was too crampy to move? Now _that’s_ what I call embarrassing.”

“Don’t be silly, Clarke. That was a medical issue. This is...different.”

“For god’s sake, Bellamy, just spit it out!”

He took a deep breath. “This was actually my third... encounter with Professor Sydney. The reason I never mentioned her...that I had a new department head...”

He paused, and she watched as a flush rose across his cheeks.

“I never told you about her,” he said at last, “because right from the first time we met it felt like she was... well... hitting on me.”

 _“What?”_ It was the last thing Clarke had expected. “Are you sure?”

He nodded unhappily. “At first I thought it must be my imagination, so I just kind of...dismissed it.”

“Jesus, Bellamy! If anyone should know he’s being hit on, it’s you. It happens every time we go out. Or at least as soon as people realize I’m not your girlfriend.”

“That’s not true,” he protested weakly.

“Of course it is! You can’t expect to look like, um, you know... _that_ , and not get attention.”

Bellamy’s eyes narrowed suddenly. “So...how do they know?”

“Know?” _What the hell was he talking about?_

“That you’re...not my girlfriend?”

“They ask, Bellamy. While you’re getting drinks at the bar or off taking a leak. They ask.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “So before they ask they think...” He wiggled his fingers back and forth between them.

Clarke reached down for her cereal bowl, ducking her head as she felt her face burning. _How many times had she wanted to claim him? To say that he was taken?_ Lately, it had been getting harder and harder.

But she never did. Bellamy was not hers, and if he wanted to hook up with one of his...admirers, that was his business. Not that _that_ had happened in...forever. But in any case he didn’t need her running interference for him. He was very adept at blowing off unwanted...

She looked up suddenly.

“Look, we’re getting a little off track here. Even if this Professor Sydney is coming on to you, you’re pretty good at evading unwanted, uh, interest.”

“I tried! But none of my usual methods worked.”

Clarke shrugged. “So don’t be so nice about it. Just...blow her off.”

“Yeah, you know if it were any other colleague, I’d do exactly that,” he agreed, shoving his hand agitatedly through his hair. “I’d tell her pretty fucking directly that I wasn’t interested, and then I’d just avoid her.”

He sighed. “But since she’s the head of my department, that solution isn’t going to fly. And besides...”

Bellamy’s tone spoke of deep frustration.

“Yeah?”

“You remember that this is only a one-year gig, Clarke. I’m just filling in. But I’d really like to get on another faculty in this area. Not have to find...another place to live.”

As he said this, Bellamy didn’t quite meet her eyes, but Clarke felt relief surge through her. She hadn’t dared to ask if he was planning to stay.

“Of _course_ you’ll get something else. Do you know how many colleges there are in Greater Boston? Any one of them would be lucky to have you.“

Bellamy’s mouth twisted up in a rueful smile.

“Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence. But who do you think gets to evaluate my work this year and write a recommendation that’ll hopefully get me in somewhere else? You don’t think if I just shoot her down that might not affect what’s in that letter?”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, and she isn’t the kind to just back off. Not without a good reason. Which is why...”

He paused suddenly, and Clarke’s brows rose in encouragement. She had a feeling they were finally getting to the heart of the matter.

“The meeting today mostly went...okay, and I hoped maybe it had been my imagination after all. But then when I was leaving, she came all the way around her desk to shake my hand. And her thumb...lingered on my palm. Then she suggested we go for coffee. Said she hadn’t had a chance to really get to know me the way everyone else had. Not as well as she’d like to. And I just...Clarke, I just fucking panicked.”

“And?”

His next words ran together, coming out in one long breath.

“I told her I had to get home right away because...my wife was making us a special dinner.”

For a moment Clarke was speechless, and then she shook her head in disbelief. “You couldn’t have just said _girlfriend_?”

“Maybe,” he said unhappily, “but I was sick of the whole thing, and I wanted it to end, and it just...came out.”

Clarke sighed. “Okay, well at least you’re off the hook now.”

Bellamy’s expression became, if possible, even more gloomy. He shook his head.

“I don’t think she believed me. She looked down at my hand, and of course there’s no ring, and then she said she hadn’t heard I was married. I don’t remember how the hell I explained away the ring, but I know I said the marriage was recent, and then she said...”

When Bellamy paused, Clarke prompted him.

“She said...?”

He sighed. “She said that she’d love to meet my...wife, and that she should come to the faculty reception next week.” His voice became agitated. “And by _should_ , I’m pretty sure what she really meant was _will_. _Must. Better show up._ I don’t know how I could have been so stupid.”

“So when you said you needed a wife...”

Her breath caught as she pushed out the words, and suddenly she knew exactly what was coming next.

Bellamy cleared his throat and she could see the tension and the embarrassment in his face.

“Clarke...I know it’s a lot to ask,” he began. “But it’s kind of... an emergency...”

“An emergency? No, needing a ride to work is an emergency. Taking someone to the hospital is an emergency. Picking up fucking _tampons_ is an emergency.” Clarke expelled a long breath. “Pretending to be someone’s wife? Not so much.”

“You’re right,” he said, backing off, immediately contrite. “I’m an asshole for even asking you. I’ll...figure out another way.”

Clarke gaped. He hadn’t even waited for her to turn him down. Was the idea of having her as even a pretend wife so...so...repugnant that he wasn’t even going to try to persuade her?

“Look...Bellamy... I haven’t said I won’t do it.”

But he was shaking his head, already rising from the couch, grabbing his satchel, and heading towards his room.

“Let’s just forget we even had this conversation, okay?” He couldn’t seem to meet her eyes. “I’ve got a lot of exams to grade, so I’ll catch you later.”

But Bellamy never did reappear that evening, and by the time Clarke awoke the next morning, he’d already left for campus.

XXXXXXXXXX

Since she worked for herself, Clarke knew it was essential that she keep to a schedule, especially in a competitive field like graphic design. She couldn’t afford to get a reputation for not meeting deadlines.

And usually, that wasn’t a problem. Usually, she just sank into the work and the world went away while she brought her vision to life. Usually, she barely even remembered to eat until her stomach reminded her.

But today was not a day that was in any way _usual_.

Today, she was tired and cranky from too little sleep, and she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Bellamy’s proposal that she pretend to be his wife. Pretend to be the one person who cared for him more than any other.

_Oh, the irony._

She certainly hadn’t moved in with Bellamy Blake with the idea that she’d ever in a million years fall for him. She’d just needed a place to live after she and Lexa broke up. Bellamy was in her friend group, he was someone she liked, and he was conveniently looking for a new roommate.

Clarke couldn’t even have said when or how it had all changed to so much more.

At first, knowing she was coming off a bad breakup, Bellamy had just been kind to her, offering to talk if she needed to. And she’d appreciated that. But it wasn’t long before he’d become her go-to person, the one she confided in about all sorts of things. They’d had wonderful long conversations about anything and everything.

Eventually, after Raven prodded and pushed, she’d begun dating again. But after several disastrous tries she’d found she much preferred staying in with Bellamy on a Saturday night, when their friends were all coupled up for ‘date night’.

And now, a little over a year later, he’d become her best friend, her favorite person, and pretty much the center of her universe.

So, yeah, she didn't know when it had happened, but she was painfully aware of the exact _precise_ moment it had all been brought home to her. Because Bellamy had also apparently become her favorite topic of conversation.

Clarke didn’t see her mom as much as she’d have liked because Abby had her own busy life, but they always managed to spend the holidays together. So it was over Christmas dinner that the revelation occurred.

Marcus Kane was there, and Clarke couldn’t help being just a little amused that her mother’s social life was so much better than her own. Clarke still missed her dad, of course, still mourned him quietly. But Jake Griffin had been gone a long time and Marcus was a good guy. Her mother deserved a good guy.

Marcus had brought along his own mother, Vera, a delightful woman whose own life was filled to overflowing with activity. Clarke had never met her before, but just listening to Vera’s round of volunteer work and committees made Clarke smile in admiration.

Vera seemed interested in Clarke’s work and Clarke’s life, too, and pretty soon she found herself talking far more than she normally did to someone she’d just met. In fact, she’d pretty much been running on non-stop for several minutes when she paused for a breath and a sip of wine.

Vera smiled at her. “I’d certainly love to meet him,” she said enthusiastically.

Clarke swallowed her wine, puzzled. “Him?”

“Your young man. Bellamy. He sounds very kind and very accomplished. Where did you say he was teaching?”

The silence gathered as Clarke gaped in surprise.

“Uh...no! That is...we live together but he’s just my roommate, Vera. I mean, we aren’t....we don’t...”

She fumbled around, finally turning to her mother for an assist. “Uh, Mom, maybe you can explain...”

Abby’s smile was kind. And knowing.

“I think what Clarke is trying to say is that while she thinks very highly of Bellamy, at this moment there’s nothing going on between them.”

“Mom!” Clarke was mortified. _Had her mother really just alluded to her sex life? And to this...senior citizen?_

But Vera just nodded. “I see.” She paused. “Well, ordinarily I don’t give unasked for advice, Clarke, but really, you might want to consider changing that. He sounds like a keeper.”

Clarke felt her face heat up as Marcus cleared his throat and mercifully changed the subject.

She left soon after, rushing home to sit quietly in her apartment and try to figure out how she could have been so fucking oblivious.

“Why are you sitting here in the dark?” Bellamy asked when he returned from his sister’s a couple of hours later.

He switched on the lamp and flopped down beside her, and Clarke glanced over at his beautiful smiling face and wondered how the hell she could not have known how she felt about him.

She’d been living with the knowledge ever since, and every day it had become harder and harder. Clarke was so aware of him, felt his presence so palpably, that some days she wished he’d just leave and give her some relief, only to find herself missing him terribly when he was gone. She’d caught him looking at her oddly a couple of times and been sure she’d somehow given herself away. But he never said anything.

In desperation, she’d even considered moving out, but there was no way she’d be able to do that without Bellamy becoming aware of the reason.

She didn’t think she could bear the embarrassment.

And now he wanted her to pretend to be his wife.

When she reached this point in her rumination, Clarke gave up on even the pretense of working, shuffling into the kitchen instead for a bowl of cereal. She saw it as soon as she opened the refrigerator. Bellamy’s lunch, carefully packed into plastic containers the night before, still sitting on the shelf, forgotten.

That had never happened before.

Shit! He was so stressed out over his asshole department head that it was totally messing with his routine.

Glancing at the clock, Clarke decided that this, at least, was something she could do for him. Twelve-fifteen. She was pretty sure if she really moved her ass she’d have just enough time to grab a quick shower and still make it to campus by his one o’clock break.

XXXXXXXXXX

Clarke had been to Bellamy’s office only a couple of times, but she had no trouble finding it again. He shared the space with another young instructor, but Bellamy insisted he must be a phantom because the guy barely ever showed his face. So Clarke had every expectation that Bellamy would be alone.

Instead, opening the door after a quick knock, she found that he had company.

Bellamy looked up in surprise.

“Clarke! What are you doing here?”

For a second she thought he might be pissed at her for bursting in unannounced, but his manner seemed the same as ever.

“You forgot your lunch,” she said, holding up an insulated bag.

“Oh, geez, you didn’t have to do that.” Bellamy’s smile was rueful. She knew how much he hated having anyone go out of their way for him, as though somehow he didn’t deserve it.

Well, _fuck_ that idea. And the horse it came in on.

The man sitting across the desk from Bellamy turned then. An older man, silver-haired. Very handsome. He scraped back his chair, rose, and held out his hand.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m Jack Sinclair.”

“Dr. Sinclair.” On the other side of the desk, Bellamy rose, too. “This is...”

And there it was. The moment from which there would be no turning back. Fish or cut bait.

She wanted to pretend to herself that the impulse came out of nowhere, but really, she’d probably made the decision as soon as he asked her. Clarke grasped the man’s hand, interrupting Bellamy before he could say another word.

“Hi,” she said quickly, giving Sinclair a friendly smile. “I’m Clarke Griffin. Or...I guess it’s Griffin-Blake now. I’m Bellamy’s...wife.”

She watched Dr. Sinclair’s face light up with an answering smile, while across the desk Dr. Blake’s jaw dropped. Clarke decided she’d deal with that later.

“Congratulations,” Sinclair said cheerfully. “There was a rumor going around that Bellamy had gotten married, and now I’ll be able to confirm it with...the others.”

He nodded to Bellamy. “We can do this anytime. Have lunch with your wife.” He slipped past her out the door before either of them could say another word.

Clarke held out the lunch bag to Bellamy, and he took it silently, then sighed and shook his head.

“What are you doing, Clarke? I thought you said this was a crazy idea.”

She shrugged. “You didn’t give me even two minutes to think about it. So... maybe I changed my mind. It’s not really such a big deal. I’ll go to this reception, you’ll get your letter of recommendation, and then you’ll go teach somewhere else.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“I’m the one who told him, aren’t I? So it’s done. Can’t take it back now.”

He laughed suddenly and shook his head, slumping back into his seat.

“Okay. But...” his smile became a smirk, “don’t you think ‘Griffin-Blake’ is kind of a mouthful. I think plain old-fashioned Clarke Blake has a nice ring to it.”

Clarke made a gagging sound as she took the chair opposite. “Gross. I’m not sure which is worse, your nineteenth-century chauvinism or pairing up ‘Clarke’ with ‘Blake’.”

And suddenly, they were right back on their regular footing.

“You know, I think you should bring me my lunch every day,” Bellamy declared as they made their way through the food. “After you’ve prepared it with your own dainty little hands, of course.”

Clarke swallowed so fast she nearly choked. “And I think you should shut the fuck up before you have the quickest divorce in history.”

Bellamy grinned at her, but then his smile turned so warm she suddenly felt hot all over.

“Thanks for doing this, Clarke,” he said softly.

“No problem,” she shrugged. “What are friends for?”

XXXXXXXXXX

“We need to get rings before this reception, Bellamy. Dr. Sinclair didn’t notice, but everyone else will. What did you tell the bitch about your ring?”

He grinned. “Hey, that would be _Professor_ Bitch, or at the very least, _Doctor_ Bitch. And I seem to remember I told her it was too big. Kept falling off. So we were having it sized.”

“Okay, that makes it easy. We go on Amazon and buy some really cheap rings.”

“Amazon? You can buy wedding rings on Amazon?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “They won’t be the same thing you’d get from Tiffany’s, Bellamy, but they’ll look okay from a distance. I don’t think anyone’s going to try and inspect them.”

He frowned.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quickly. “I’m pretty sure we can get a set for under fifty bucks, and that seems little enough to spend to get you out of this mess.”

“I just...I guess I don’t like the idea of you wearing that cheap ring. It can’t be...what you’re used to.”

A sharp stab of affection hit her unexpectedly. “You know, I didn’t exactly grow up a Rockefeller,“ she said with a smile, bumping him with her hip. “I’m sure I’ll survive the insult to my status.”

They found something suitably plain and cheap, and although Clarke offered to split the cost, Bellamy put his foot down.

“No way. You’re already doing me this huge favor. Why the hell should you have to spend any money?”

Thanks to the miraculous delivery system of the giant online retailer, their rings arrived exactly two days later, in plenty of time for their command performance at the reception. When the big night arrived, Bellamy finally explained to Clarke that the occasion was to honor a prestigious guest lecturer in African Studies.

“Nowhere near my specialty, but everyone in the department is expected to show up. You know, I really wouldn’t mind meeting this guy,” he complained, his voice a little louder than normal, so Clarke could hear him in her bedroom where she was putting the finishing touches on her makeup. “He sounds like someone I’d really like to talk to. But why do we have to have these stupid receptions? Why can’t we just...”

As she stepped into the room, fully prepared to agree and sympathize, his voice ground to a sudden halt as he just stared at her.

“What’s wrong?” Clarke said, suddenly afraid the dress she’d chosen, a simple black sheath that nevertheless hugged her body in all the right places, might have been a terrible mistake. “Is this not right? Should I go back and change?”

“No! No need to change. You look...great. Better than great. Beautiful.”

She caught her breath when she saw his expression soften.

“You’ve seen me a little dressed up before, Bellamy. I may have even worn this dress,” she added, trying for a light touch, and knowing it for the lie it was. She’d bought that dress especially for this occasion, but she’d be happier if he never found that out.

Bellamy’s lips tugged up in a small smile as his eyes swept her up and down. “Pretty sure I’d remember if I’d ever seen you in that dress.”

He shook himself suddenly, picked up her coat and helped her on with it. As she wriggled into the second sleeve and began to fasten the buttons, Bellamy’s arms closed around her from behind.

“Thanks again for doing this,” he said softly, brushing the softest of kisses across her cheek.

And then he was moving to open the door for her, while Clarke still trembled from the warmth of his brief embrace.

The reception was held on campus, of course. The school had plenty of appropriate rooms, and this particular one was located in an old stone building that had started its life as a chapel, back when every institution of higher learning had some religious affiliation. It had since morphed into space for much of the music department, and the elegant mahogany-clad rooms on the second floor were often used by the faculty for the type of social occasions that academia seemed so fond of.

Clarke and Bellamy stood outside the door, pausing to ensure that their ‘wedding rings’ were securely in place, and then Clarke looped her arm firmly through Bellamy’s.

“We’re on,” she told him quietly as he reached forward and opened the door.

They stepped into a long narrow room, already filled with groups of chattering academics. Some looked up curiously when ‘Dr. and Mrs. Blake’ entered, most then returning to whatever scintillating conversation they’d been engaged in.

Bellamy had once told her that academics could talk the bark off a tree and she’d responded teasingly that if that were so, he’d chosen the right profession.

Clarke could feel the tension in Bellamy’s arm right through his blazer jacket, and supposed she really shouldn’t be surprised. Bellamy was ordinarily at ease in any social group, and could charm the pants off just about anyone. But this was different. This was his career — his life, really — and after all his hard work he wanted to make sure he didn’t blow it.

And on top of all that, he’d told a big fat lie about his personal life and was probably terrified it could be exposed at any moment.

Clarke promised herself that no matter what, she was going to make sure that didn’t happen.

Out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly noticed a woman bearing down on them from the other end of the room. Someone who definitely looked like she could well be the bitchy Dr. Sydney.

Shit! Couldn’t they at least have had a chance to get comfortable before they had to face the Dragon Lady?

But before the woman could reach them, Professor Sinclair spotted them just inside the door and detached himself from a nearby group.

“I see you both made it,” he said pleasantly. “Come on over so I can introduce you to my wife.”

“Professor Sinclair, it’s nice to see you again.” Clarke gave him her best social smile, the one that had been honed to perfection at countless fundraisers and hospital galas. As she smiled at Sinclair, the woman who’d been approaching slowed abruptly, coming to a halt a few yards away.

“Julie,” Sinclair interrupted his wife when they reached the conversation group. “These are the newlyweds I was telling you about.”

Julie Sinclair and her husband appeared to be well-matched, at least in temperament.

“I’ve been dying to meet you ever since I heard,” she said, smiling at Clarke warmly, her slight drawl revealing her Southern roots. “I just knew someone who looked like Bellamy couldn’t possibly be single.”

It was a somewhat outrageous remark, and when she saw Bellamy’s slight flush, Clarke thought maybe she should be annoyed, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She leaned against Bellamy as she chatted with Julie, and as if it were the most natural thing in the world he wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

For two or three happy minutes, Clarke forgot why she was there, in her new dress, with a cheap wedding ring on her finger and Bellamy’s arm around her. Until she was pulled up short by a new voice.

“Dr. Blake, I see you’ve brought your wife after all.”

“I have, Professor Sydney,” Bellamy said, smiling pleasantly. “Clarke, this is Dr. Sydney.”

The conversational circle adjusted to accept the newcomer, who wedged herself in on the other side of Bellamy.

“Happy to meet you, Clarke,” she said graciously enough, but something about the woman made Clarke feel like she was talking to a cobra. One that might strike at any moment.

“Tell me, should I call you Dr. Blake, too?” Dr. Sydney asked curiously.

Clarke frowned, unable to fathom her meaning. “It’s actually _Griffin-Blake,_ and, uh, I was in med school for a while, but I dropped out. So, nope. Not a doctor.”

She made an extra effort to answer as agreeably as possible, since pissing Sydney off was exactly what they were trying to avoid. But, really. What the fuck was the woman getting at?

“You misunderstand. I wondered if perhaps you’d been working on a doctorate yourself. Maybe even hoping to find a position wherever Dr. Blake is employed.” She paused, her lips turning up in a sickly smile. “How fortunate you are to be married to such a talented man.”

Clarke’s jaw dropped fractionally as she finally parsed Dr. Bitch’s meaning. Which seemed to be... _that maybe she’d married Bellamy to make it easier to get a job._ She felt her blood begin to boil at the dual insult — apparently _she_ was a parasite and _he_ an easy mark!

For just a moment, she forgot it was all a pretense, forgot that she shouldn’t really take offense. Forgot that she wasn’t actually married to Bellamy at all. And responded from the heart.

“Bellamy Blake,” Clarke said very distinctly, smiling coyly as she moved her free hand up to lightly brush against Bellamy’s chest, “is a man of many talents. Any woman would be lucky to find herself married to him.”

Julie Sinclair’s peal of laughter rang out. “I’d say she’s got you there, Diana,” she said gleefully.

It was only then that Clarke realized exactly what it was she’d implied, and she glanced up anxiously to find Bellamy looking down at her, his face slightly flushed and a questioning look in his eye.

“Actually,” he said, turning to his boss and quietly clearing his throat, “Clarke isn’t any kind of academic, she’s an artist. She has her own graphic design business. Sometimes she makes a mess of our place, but,” he looked down at her with a fond smile, “I can’t say that I mind.”

Clarke’s breath caught in her throat because everything he’d just said was absolutely true, including the last part. She sometimes just trashed their apartment and he never said a word. She really tried to remember that it was all a game, but it was damned hard when he was looking at her like that.

“Bellamy,” Jack Sinclair’s voice broke in just then. “And Clarke, of course. Would the two of you like to meet Professor Mbege now? He’s a fascinating man.”

Clarke let out a breath as they both rushed to be the first to say that _yes, yes, of course, it would be a privilege to speak with Professor Mbege._

As they made their way across the room toward the guest of honor, Clarke told herself that it looked like they’d passed the initial test with Dr. Bitch. A dozen other thoughts threatened to rise to the surface then, but she pushed them down ruthlessly, focusing instead on getting through the rest of the evening.

By the time they left nearly two hours later, Clarke was exhausted, and not just from keeping up the charade. There was also the pressing need to remember that every look, every touch, every warm smile from Bellamy was just part of a script. One more layer in the cloak of make-believe.

As they were leaving, they were invited by the Sinclairs to join them for dinner.

“The food at these things is always so bad I just avoid it completely,” Dr. Sinclair confided. “Then we get something decent afterwards.”

“Yes, please do join us,” Dr. Sydney added, briefly touching Bellamy’s arm.

Clarke noticed the contact, and instinctively pressed herself tighter against him. She wasn’t sure she could manage even one more second in the woman’s company, but she left the decision to Bellamy.

Turned out they were on the same wavelength.

“I think we’ll just get something at home,” he said with a small smile, his arm still wrapped securely around Clarke.

For a moment, it seemed like Dr. Sydney might try to persuade them to join the group, but Julie Sinclair cut her off with laugh.

“Heck, you don’t think these two want to spend their whole night with us, do you? They’re practically honeymooners. I’m sure they’ve got better things to do.”

Clarke was perhaps the tiniest bit embarrassed... but mostly she was just relieved. Let them think what they wanted.

Sydney frowned in displeasure, and Clarke could see that she was a woman who was used to getting her own way. No wonder Bellamy had panicked.

After the others trailed off, Bellamy offered to take her out to eat. “Just the two of us,” he said quietly. “Somewhere they’d never go.”

And Clarke was so, so tempted. Another couple of hours of Bellamy’s undivided attention, as they lingered in some nice restaurant and laughed over their evening. An easy excuse to sit across from him and admire how great he looked in ‘dressed up’ mode, without a single worry about being too obvious.

Almost like... a real date.

And that’s what brought her up short. Because... why torture herself like that? She pled fatigue.

“Are you sure?“

He seemed almost... disappointed, and she could feel herself weakening, until he added, “Who knows when we might get a chance to do this again? “

And she was reminded all over again that this was a one-off. Not real. Certainly not to be repeated.

Best not to get confused.

“I think maybe... let’s just go home,” she said, settling into her corner.

She knew she was way too quiet as they traveled along the darkened highway, and thought Bellamy might remark on it. But he, too, remained silent, perhaps caught up in his own head. It wasn’t until they were home that he finally spoke.

“Clarke,” he said softly, as she tossed her coat carelessly onto the back of a chair.

“Yeah?” She’d been headed toward her room, but pivoted quickly, finding him only a few feet away.

“I don’t think there’s any way I can thank you for helping me out like this. I don’t know what the hell I would have done.”

They hadn’t bothered turning on the lights, but even in just the moonlight that streamed in through the window she could see the small smile that accompanied his thanks.

“Don’t be silly,” she said, “it was... fun.”

He laughed. “Pretty sure it wasn’t fun at all. But just having you there, even without the theatrics, it really...it made the whole night a lot better.”

“Yeah? I’m glad.”

“And you were great. I never knew you were such a good actress,” he added, and she could see his jaw flexing. “I think they bought it.”

“I think you’re right,” she nodded, her throat threatening to close up any second.

Clarke said good night then, and prayed to god she looked sufficiently pleased with herself.

Because inside she was quietly dying.

XXXXXXXXXX

Preparations for the reception had taken up a lot of their time and energy, so for the next several days she and Bellamy were both busy catching up. She had a big project to complete and Bellamy was mired in end-of-semester exams and papers. So it was no wonder that they’d scarcely seen each other for more than a week, not even for dinner, a meal they’d gotten into the habit of sharing.

Or at least that’s what Clarke told herself.

It certainly wasn’t that she’d been hiding out in her room, trying to forget that she’d fallen so hard for her roommate that it was sometimes painful just to be around him. She’d even been reconsidering the idea of moving out, but she was afraid it might be even more difficult not to see him at all.

She was still wavering about the whole thing by the second Friday after the reception, when Bellamy reminded Clarke that it was their turn to host movie night for their friend group. She’d skipped the week before, much to Bellamy’s consternation, but she could hardly avoid a gathering at her own place.

So they cleaned a bit, and stocked up on snacks, and for a few hours things seemed almost normal.

“You feeling better?” he asked suddenly. “You’ve seemed a little...ah...under the weather for the last couple weeks.”

There was real concern in Bellamy’s voice and Clarke felt both guilty and a little stupid. She made a mental note to get the hell over herself.

“I’m good,” she said. “Just been busy. Hey, you sure we got enough beer?”

He smiled at her and she could actually see his relief. _What an asshole she was to make him worry._

Later that evening, just as the group had moved on to _Godfather, Part II,_ Raven pulled her aside as she was refilling the snack bowls.

 _Shit!_ Clarke hoped she wasn’t in for an interrogation about her absence at the last few group events. But Raven had something altogether different on her mind.

“I need a favor,” she said, keeping her voice low.

“Name it.” Clarke was sure she probably owed Raven more than a few favors.

“You’re not doing anything tomorrow night, right?”

“No, but...”

“So, you remember that guy from the bar last week. Oh, wait, that’s right, you skipped trivia night.” Raven frowned. “Well, there was this guy, and he was pretty cool, and also very hot, and we, uh, spent some quality time together.”

“So... what? Did you hook up with this hot cool guy with no name?” Clarke couldn’t help teasing her a bit.

Raven rolled her eyes. “His name is Roan. Roan Winters. And we did _not_ hook up. We just...mostly...talked. Anyway, a couple days ago he called and he wants to take me to dinner tomorrow night.”

Clarke smiled. “That’s great. Sounds like you like him. So...what do you need from me?”

Raven sighed. “Well...I don’t really know him that well, yanno? And I’ve had a couple of...scares. So I told him we could meet for drinks in the restaurant lounge, and then, if everything seemed good, we could stay and eat.”

Clarke nodded. “Sounds reasonable. Do you need a ride or something?”

“Not exactly. I, uh...I told him I was bringing a friend with me for drinks.”

It took a few seconds to click.

“Oh, you want me to check him out for you.”

“Yeah, I trust your judgment. We can take the T but if I decide to stay, I’ll pay for an Uber to take you home.”

It sounded like Raven really liked the guy and she usually knew what was up, so chances were she’d be able to give Raven the thumbs up after one drink.

“Okay,” she smiled. “One drink should do it. One _free_ drink.”

Raven laughed. “Of course! Thanks, Clarke.”

As she was leaving the apartment the following night, Clarke could hear the usual groaning from Bellamy’s room as he pored over the papers his students had submitted online. (The groaning being interspersed, of course, with the occasional _what the fuck!)_ She hadn’t seen any reason to mention Raven’s plan to him, and she didn’t want to bother him while he was working, so she just yelled that she was off to help out Raven with something and would be back in a while.

Then she chuckled to herself, shaking her head.

Chances were good Bellamy wouldn’t even remember this conversation, even though he‘d just yelled back _okay_. Chances were even _better_ that at some point he’d drag himself out of his room for food, and then be totally confused when she wasn’t around.

She grabbed a sheet of printer paper and wrote ‘HELPING RAVEN BACK SOON’, leaving it on the kitchen table. No point in worrying him just because he could sometimes get a little too... focused.

Raven had told her that Roan had picked a nice place for dinner, but she certainly hadn’t expected they’d be going to _Yvette’s_. It was only a half-dozen T stops from their neighborhood, but a world away in terms of ambience and amenities.

Clarke had been there once with Abby and Marcus and distinctly remembered being happy she wasn’t footing the bill. She was glad she’d worn something a little dressy, even if she wasn’t staying long.

“How the hell did he even get a reservation here on a Saturday night?” Clarke wondered aloud as they approached the door.

Raven shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”

As they stepped into the beautifully-appointed bar, Clarke looked around for a hot guy sitting alone, but couldn’t find anyone that fit that description. _Uh, oh._ Raven would definitely be pissed if he was late for their first date.

But Raven was smiling and moving across the lounge. “This way, Clarke,” she said cheerfully, heading very determinedly toward a table in a quiet corner of the room. A table where two men rose as they approached.

 _Two men._ Not a single guy, waiting for his date and her friend. But very definitely, without question, two men.

By the time they reached the table, it came home to Clarke that she had been set up, and she told herself that she was going to kill Raven. Perhaps not at that moment. She’d let her have her date first. But very, very soon.

She knew immediately which one was Raven’s date. It had to be the angular guy with the longish hair and the sardonic smile. He was certainly hot, and probably also cool in a way that spoke of a high level of self-esteem and a low level of caring what the hell anyone else thought.

In other words, Raven’s type exactly.

“Hey, Roan,” Raven said when they reached the table. “Guess you brought a friend, too. Was I too scary for you?” she laughed.

“Something like that.” His voice was low and rasping.

Raven must be an idiot if she thought Clarke believed that little act. She stared at Raven, her brows rising in silent rebuke and was unsurprised to see Raven’s guilty flush. In the past, she’d been more direct about these little fix-ups, and Clarke figured she must be looking pretty damned pathetic if Raven was now resorting to bad romcom tropes.

She sighed inwardly, wondering if maybe the time had come to explain to Raven exactly why she was never interested in any of these guys that kept...showing up. It might even be a relief to confide in someone. Of course, Raven would probably tell her she was an idiot and should move out, but then Clarke already knew all that.

But for the moment, she contented herself with making the best of the situation.

Introductions were made all around, and the other guy, Tom Something, seemed friendly enough. And at least she wouldn’t be forced to dredge up her stealthy interrogation techniques. Any man that Raven trusted enough to bring “a guy for Clarke” had already passed her litmus test of reliability.

“Still only staying for one drink,” she muttered to Raven as they shed their jackets and sat.

Thirty minutes later, she’d consented to a second drink, telling herself that the margaritas were pretty good and the company wasn’t bad either. Not that Tom — _Martin? Mason? Madison?_ — was anyone she’d ever be interested in dating. He seemed a little too into himself for her taste. On the other hand, he was certainly easy on the eye in a dark-haired, Greek-god sort of way.

It was right at that moment that Clarke decided to let herself enjoy the evening. What was the harm in getting her flirt on a bit? Sometimes she missed just having silly fun without it having to _mean_ anything.

And then of course, the bar itself was...spectacular. They never drank in places like this. Too expensive. Too sedate. Not a place you could feel comfortable just kicking back. But for an occasional change of pace? Why the hell not.

The second round of drinks arrived, and as she took her first sip, Clarke glanced around the room, studying not only the elegant decor but also the bar’s clientele. A new group arrived just then, rushing to grab a table for four that had just been vacated on the other side of the room, no doubt congratulating themselves on their fortunate timing. She watched idly as they removed the light coats and jackets required by a chilly spring evening in Boston.

Tom’s admiring glances were doing her ego a world of good, so she gave him another friendly smile and made a few more silly remarks before her gaze slid away from him and back to that new group of four now ensconced in the opposite corner of the bar. There’d been something about them, about one of the women, a flicker of... familiarity.

As she took another small sip of her drink, Clarke frowned, her gaze refocusing sharply on the table in the opposite corner of the room...

And nearly choked on her margarita.

 _Shit!_ It couldn’t be! But then again, it most definitely was. Staring at her frostily across the restaurant’s expansive bar was none other than Dr. Diana Sydney.

The same Dr. Sydney that she’d taken such pains to convince she was married to Dr. Bellamy Blake was now observing Clarke on what must look exactly like a date. A date with someone who was most decidedly not Bellamy Blake.

She was really, really, _really_ going to kill Raven!

But that was for later.

What the hell was she going to do _right fucking now?_

First up? Clarke knew she had to at least acknowledge the woman. Trying to pretend she hadn’t seen her would just make her look more like a cheating wife. Or worse yet...like no wife at all!

She told herself not to panic, that Dr. Sydney had no reason to believe she was anything other than Bellamy’s wife. But what if she was wrong? What if the woman somehow managed to see through their masquerade?

 _Complete fucking disaster!_ Bellamy would be branded a liar and find himself lucky to get a job in the outer reaches of Alaska.

She knew with a sudden urgency that only one thing could prevent this potential catastrophe. She had to get Bellamy there as fast as possible.

Clarke nodded fractionally to Dr. Sydney before grabbing her purse and hot-footing it to the restrooms. Thank god she’d been there before and didn’t have to ask where they were. She thought she might have heard Raven calling after her, but, hell, she expected that Raven could figure it out.

She slipped quickly into the Ladies Room, and as soon as she was locked securely inside a stall she pulled out her phone and rapidly put in a call to Bellamy. _Come on, come on, come on!_ she screamed silently at the phone, but her phone remained stubbornly unanswered, no matter how many times she called.

It was only then that she remembered that Bellamy often turned his phone to silent when he was working, and she could have kicked herself for all the time she’d wasted. She was just about to press the text bar instead when she heard her name being called.

“Clarke? Are you in here, Clarke? Dammit, if you’re here you better answer me, or I swear I’m dialing 9-1-1.”

Shit! She might have known Raven would never just wait calmly for her to return.

Clarke stealthily eased open the stall door, calling out quietly, “I’m in here, Raven. Is anyone else in the Ladies Room?”

“Clarke!” Raven’s relief was laced with annoyance. “What the hell were you thinking just running off like that?”

“Are we alone?” she asked again insistently, and when Raven nodded, bewildered, Clarke pulled her into the stall and relocked the door. “Just let me do this and then I’ll explain.”

“Do what?” Raven demanded, although something in Clarke’s demeanor must have gotten through to her, because she lowered her voice to match Clarke’s soft whisper.

“Text Bellamy,” she explained, quickly typing out _pick up your damn phone!_

Her relief was immense when her own phone began to ring almost immediately.

“What the hell is wrong, Clarke? Are you hurt?” Bellamy sounded frantic.

“Bellamy,” she said as quietly as possible, “this is an emergency, so I need you to do what I say and not ask any questions. First of all, what are you wearing?”

Raven choked when she heard the question, but Clarke didn’t have time to worry about Raven.

“Uh... sweats and a t-shirt, but what...” He was clearly bewildered.

“You need to change. Put on your dark jeans and one of your teaching shirts. I think your green striped one is clean. Then come to the bar at _Yvette’s_ as fast as you can. I’ll text you the address...”

“I know where Yvette’s is, Clarke, so you don’t need to...”

“Good. And don’t be surprised by anything that happens when you get here.”

“Okay,” he said quickly, finally catching on to the agitation in her voice. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” she said, just before hanging up, “I think you better bring our wedding rings.”

Clarke had read the phrase _her eyes got as round as saucers_ maybe a hundred times. This was the first time she’d actually seen the phenomenon.

“ _Wedding rings!_ What the fuck? Did you and Bellamy...?” Raven was nearly apoplectic.

“Shhh!” Clarke clapped her hand over Raven’s mouth, then took another quick peek outside the stall to make sure they were still alone. “If you think you can deal with _no_ _questions_ , I’ll give you the short and sweet version. But then we need to get back.”

Raven crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. “I’m listening.”

XXXXXXXXXX

The timing of Bellamy’s arrival twenty minutes later could not have have been more providential.

After glancing Clarke’s way several times, Dr. Sydney had apparently decided —perhaps after a couple of drinks had bolstered her already colossal nerve — that the circumstances of Clarke Griffin-Blake’s outing really needed to be investigated. She had just that moment risen from her chair with an air of determination.

So Clarke was immensely relieved at Bellamy’s sudden appearance. She also couldn’t help but admire the picture he made, clad in the requested jeans and shirt, his blazer jacket thrown casually atop. She noted a few other admirers as well, but none of the others waved wildly or exclaimed loudly, “Honey! We’re over here!”

Bellamy smiled when he saw her, confusion sliding across his face when he took in the four of them sitting there.

He twisted through the maze created by all the tables, and had barely reached them when Clarke jumped up and threw her arms around him.

“Bellamy! You finally made it!” she said loudly. “I was getting worried.” Then added more quietly for his ears alone, ”Where are the wedding rings?”

“Mine’s on my finger, yours is in my right jacket pocket.” His response was equally discreet.

“Right,” she said, fishing out the ring and slipping it on quickly, their near embrace enabling her to use Bellamy’s body for cover.

And then several things happened at once.

Tom Something turned to Roan and said heatedly, and unfortunately not very discreetly, “I thought you said she was single!”

“Zip it!” Raven advised strongly, practically hissing the words at him.

“Good evening, Dr. Blake.” The voice came from behind him, and since Clarke had had no chance to warn him, Bellamy’s look of surprise when he turned was utterly genuine.

“Dr. Sydney! This is... unexpected.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Likewise. Indeed, I had begun to despair of your putting in an appearance at all. It seemed as though your wife had quite abandoned you for other company.”

“Well, that certainly would never happen,” Clarke said with a smile, surprising them all, herself included, by rising on her toes and impulsively planting a quick kiss on Bellamy’s lips.

She saw him color slightly, but the bar was darkly-lit and she hoped his flushed face would pass unnoticed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tom Something rise slightly, as if trying to make a break for it, but Roan quickly clamped his hand over the man’s arm. Clarke felt a little sorry for the guy, but the last thing they needed was anything that looked the slightest bit odd.

“I’ve been home grading papers, so Clarke came ahead to meet some friends,” Bellamy told his boss as Clarke tucked herself firmly against his side.

He nodded at the others, and Roan Winters earned Clarke’s everlasting gratitude and immediate seal of approval by rising immediately and offering his hand.

“Glad you finally made it, Bellamy. Clarke was getting a little worried. This is my colleague, Tom Marsden. I think we’re going to be able to throw a little design work Clarke’s way.”

Dr. Sydney frowned at them all, clearly unused to being upstaged. And also apparently intent on satisfying her curiosity about the Blakes.

Her opening salvo was bland enough — unless you noticed the barbs tucked inside.

“I think you can take off a few hours on a Saturday night to take your wife out, Dr. Blake,” she said, ignoring the others and addressing only Bellamy, “but _Yvette’s_ seems an... unusual choice. It’s extraordinarily difficult to get reservations.”

“I’m afraid that’s my doing,” Roan said pleasantly. “I was trying to impress Raven.”

Sydney frowned at Roan, flicked her eyes over Raven, and dismissed them both out of hand. They were not a part of her inquiry and held no interest for her.

Clarke held her breath, wondering what might be coming next, when salvation appeared in the form of Dr. Sydney’s dining companions.

“Our table is ready, Diana,” one of them told her, a woman at least as officious as Dr. Sydney. “I don’t want to miss our reservation.”

But apparently Dr. Sydney was not to be denied the last word. “You do constantly surprise me, Dr. Blake. You and... your wife. Let us hope they’re always good surprises.”

And then she was swept away to enjoy the culinary delights offered by _Yvette’s_ dining room before either of them could respond. Not, Clarke thought, that she had any idea how she might have responded to such a vaguely ominous remark.

For a few seconds no one moved, and then Tom remarked sarcastically, “I presume I’m allowed to leave now?”

“Tom, I’m so sorry,” Clarke said, feeling immediately guilty, even though she had nothing at all to do with his presence in that restaurant. But mollifying Tom was hardly her main concern. As he flounced off, Clarke slid back into her seat, pulling Bellamy down beside her.

“Wow, that was just way too close,” she said, adrenaline still pumping, like she’d run a marathon and didn’t know how to stop even though she’d gone way past the finish line.

“I think you’ll need to stay for dinner,” Roan remarked. “Otherwise it’ll look pretty fishy.“

Raven shook her head. “Jesus, Bellamy, is that really your boss? All she needs is a broomstick and a tall pointy hat.”

Bellamy laughed. “You don’t know the half of it.”

So they did stay and eat, and afterwards Clarke and Bellamy squabbled over which of them would pay for their dinners. Raven watched the byplay for a while before impatiently shutting it down.

“Bullshit!” she said. “Neither of you is paying. It’s on me you got into this mess so it’s my treat.”

“Yes, it might have been,” Roan agreed, “if I hadn’t already taken care of the check.” He shook his head. “Not to make light of your predicament, Bellamy, but thanks for the entertainment.”

Bellamy snorted. “Yeah, lately my life is just a laugh riot.”

By the time they got back to their apartment, leaving Raven and Roan to the rest of their date, reaction was setting in and Clarke felt exhausted. But Bellamy had one more question for her.

“So, were you, um, out on a date tonight?” he asked directly.

“What? _No!_ That was me helping out Raven and suddenly there was this other guy. She totally set me up.”

He nodded, shrugged. “Not that it’s any of my business anyway.”

Clarke gaped at him. “Of course it’s your business. Do you think I’d leave here for a date without telling you? You’re my best friend. And besides, I’m your wife,” she added with a sly grin, wiggling her ring finger at him. “So you need to know about my dates.”

He smirked, eyeing her ruefully. “Yeah, about that...”

“What?”

Bellamy sighed. “Wait a sec.” He was gone only a moment before returning with a glossy white envelope, heavily embossed with the college seal. One she could see was addressed to “Dr. & Mrs. Bellamy Blake.”

Clarke frowned. “What’s this?”

“Something I figured we could skip, considering the price of the tickets. But after tonight’s fiasco...Clarke, do you think you could stand playing my wife for one more night?”

Clarke’s heart sped up in a way that she knew was entirely inappropriate.

“And what’s happening on that night?”

“The Founders Day Dinner. This year, it’s a really big fucking deal because it’s the school’s 150th anniversary. It’s in a couple weeks... just before before the evaluations come out.”

Clarke shrugged, knowing very well that her motives were probably not entirely altruistic.

“Of course,” she said blithely. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Unlike the faculty reception, the 150th Anniversary Founders Day dinner would not be held on campus but in the ballroom of one of downtown Boston’s swankier hotels. It wasn’t precisely formal — tuxes were not required — but Bellamy would definitely be expected to show up in his one good suit.

Clarke couldn’t decide what to wear so she’d asked Raven to help her choose something from the selection in the back of her closet.

“How come I didn’t know you owned all this shit?” Raven asked, wide-eyed, as she examined Clarke’s wardrobe.

Clarke shrugged. “You know my mom is Chief of Surgery at Mass General, right? I can’t even tell you how many fundraisers I’ve been dragged to over the years.”

“Okay,” Raven nodded, grabbing a few of the dresses, shifting them in her hands as she displayed them for Clarke. “So what’s appropriate for this shindig? Long? Short?” She held up a red micro-mini with a plunging neckline. “Sexy?”

“Not that one!” Clarke grabbed the dresses, aghast. “I definitely don’t want us to draw that kind of attention. I think something a little more subdued would work better for a dinner with Bellamy’s colleagues.”

Raven eyed her carefully and then flopped down onto the bed. “Yeah, about that,” she said quietly.

“What?” Clarke said, examining Raven’s other choices.

“You know this is weird, right? Pretending to be Bellamy’s wife.”

Clarke tensed, then strove for the most casual tone she could muster. “I’m just... helping him out, Raven. He was really in a jam with his bitch of a boss and he needed me to step up.”

She forced herself to focus on the dresses.

“You know, I don’t mind if you try to lie to me,” Raven said finally, her voice soft with concern, “but I hope you’re not lying to yourself.”

For a moment Clarke was silent, then she tossed the dresses to the floor and slid onto the bed next to Raven.

“I’m not,” she said with a sigh. “Not lying to myself.”

Raven nodded. “Good. Because that never works. I just...I can’t believe I missed it all this time when it was right in front of me. How long has it been?” she asked, her voice full of sympathy.

“Months,” Clarke said unhappily, “I didn’t figure it out until Christmas —almost five months ago — but it’s been a lot longer. And you missed it because I worked really hard at not letting it show.” She paused. “So... our charade gave me away, then?”

Raven snorted. “Nope, you had me convinced you were just being a good friend. It was actually Roan. He said you had to have a pretty major thing for Bellamy to go through all that when you weren’t even together. And I thought to myself what an idiot I’d been not to see it.”

“But if Roan caught on... well... you don’t think Bellamy knows, do you?” Clarke asked worriedly.

Raven shook her head. “Not a chance. I’m pretty sure he’s oblivious.”

They were quiet for several moments and then Clarke sighed heavily.

“I know what you’re going to say next, Raven. That I should move out of here and then get over myself.”

Raven slipped her arm around Clarke’s shoulders and gave her a hug.

“You know, I wasn’t actually going to offer my advice, since you didn’t ask for it. But if I did, it wouldn’t be to run away.”

“No?” Clarke was surprised. She’d been so sure.

“No, babe. I’d tell you to fight for what you want. You and Bellamy are already such close friends. How do you know you wouldn’t work out as a couple?”

Clarke shrugged. “I just feel so stupid. _Girl falls for roommate._ What could be more cliché,” she added unhappily.

“Yeah, so did you ever think that maybe it’s cliched for a reason? Unless... do you think this is just you wanting him because...I don’t know... he’s here? Convenient?”

Clarke snorted. “It’s actually pretty damned _in_ convenient to be in love with your roommate. Makes for some uncomfortable moments.”

Raven smiled. “I can imagine.” She gave Clarke another little squeeze. “But now that you’ve actually said it out loud, all that’s left is for you to tell Bellamy.”

“Right,” Clarke agreed with a sardonic smile. “That’s all I have to do. Piece of cake. No problem at all.”

XXXXXXXXXX

The dress that Clarke had eventually chosen was a navy chiffon, and the beading that covered its modest bodice shimmered in the light from the chandeliers as she and Bellamy stepped into the ballroom of the pricey waterfront hotel.

“Wow!” Bellamy was astonished by the elegant surroundings. “These bashes are usually some kind of pasta buffet at an Italian restaurant. They really did go all out this year.”

Clarke smirked as she looped her arm through his. “It’s just like the hospital galas. Like all big institutions, they love celebrating how special they are.”

Bellamy laughed. “Yep. And I’m sure we’ll hear lots of speeches about that tonight. And really...it is a pretty great school. Not that there are any vacancies on the faculty, but the first semester I’d definitely have been ecstatic if I could have stayed here. But not now. Now I’m happy to be getting the hell out of here.”

He’d been excited and relieved the week before to be offered a job at another local college. Not one as old or prestigious as this one, but he’d explained to Clarke that it was a place to start. For her part, Clarke had tried not to let on how thrilled she was that he wouldn’t be moving, but she wasn’t really sure she’d succeeded.

Clarke squeezed his arm. “The new place is gonna be great, too. You’ll see.“

He smiled. “Yeah, I know, but I’ll be relieved when I sign that contract. And that’s not going to happen until they get Sydney’s final eval.”

“Let’s not worry about her tonight,” Clarke said, waving all thought of the woman away with a flick of her wrist. “We probably won’t even see her. She’ll be up with the important people, and we’ll be...what’s it called? Oh, yeah,” she smirked in satisfaction, “ _below the salt.”_

“Whoa! What’s this? A historical allusion? What happened to my wife, the ditz?”

“She’s on temporary leave. But I got your back, don’t worry. She can make a return engagement if we run into your boss.”

“Well, you’ve certainly eased my mind,” he said with a smile.

As they approached their assigned table, Clarke was surprised to see Jack and Julie Sinclair already seated there.

“Are you sure this is right,” Bellamy muttered, grabbing the card from her hand.

But then Julie spotted them and waved them over with a smile.

“These things are always so deadly dull,” she confided to Clarke as soon as they were seated, “so I asked Jack if he couldn’t get you two assigned to our table. I need at least one person to talk to who won’t bore me to tears. I hope y’all don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Clarke assured her with a smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”

But while she was all smiles on the outside, inside she began to get that sinking feeling. The one where you knew you weren’t going to like what happened next.

And sure enough, before long the very last person they’d have chosen to sit with arrived, and made a great show of astonishment when she spotted “the Blakes.” But Diana Sydney soon moved past her surprise, parking herself in the chair right next to Bellamy.

“Dr. Sydney,” he nodded politely, but Clarke knew he was at least a little unnerved when he grabbed at her hand under cover of the tablecloth. She knew he’d spent the last couple of weeks of the semester trying to avoid his department head, but he never told her how successful he’d been.

 _Damn Julie Sinclair and her friendly impulses._ Clarke knew that was hardly fair...but then, neither was Bellamy being hit on by his boss.

Thankfully, the food was served soon after, and Clarke concentrated on making a show of eating it...and on working her routine as the clinging vine. They were just finishing the main course when Clarke interrupted Bellamy’s conversation with Diana Sydney for the third time.

“You know, Clarke,” the woman finally remarked pityingly, “it’s considered polite to let your dinner companion talk to the people on his other side, too.”

Inside, Clarke fumed, but she shelved the angry response she’d have preferred to make in favor of simpering like a fucking idiot.

“Oh, I know that, Dr. Sydney, but Bellamy is always so busy that when I get a chance to be with him I just want to keep him all to myself. I’m sure you can understand that,” she added coyly, rubbing his arm.

Bellamy looked gratified as he gave his boss a small shrug.

“I feel the same,” he said, leaning toward Clarke. She had only a moment of warning before he’d captured her lips in a brief sweet kiss.

Clarke would never be sure how she might have reacted to that kiss because at that very moment something else happened that grabbed her full attention. Something that made her think that maybe _this_ time the jig might really be up.

She’d noted in passing that there was a head table, but not enough to care who might be sitting at it. But Clarke cared now. She cared very, very much.

Clarke blinked as Bellamy pulled away from her, and found herself staring up at the head table. Directly into the eyes of a very surprised Vera Kane. The charming woman she’d met at Christmas, and who was soon to become her step-grandmother, was even now being introduced as chairman of the college’s board of trustees.

She couldn’t believe what abominably rotten luck they had.

Vera rose and moved graciously toward the podium, but Clarke knew this was only a reprieve. That by the time the speeches were over with, she’d better have come up with a lot of good answers to the questions Vera was sure to be asking.

Or else face certain disaster.

Bellamy knew her so well that she wasn’t really surprised when he leaned in and muttered, “What’s wrong, Clarke. Are you mad because I kissed you? I thought...after the other night...it might strengthen, you know, the, uh, illusion.”

“I’m not mad about that. Not at all.” She bent even closer and whispered, “I know her.”

“Who?”

“Her.” She cocked a shoulder toward the dais. “That’s Marcus’s mother. And she’s seen me.”

“Oh, shit! Will she give you away?”

Clarke thought a moment, recalling the Vera Kane she’d met at Christmas dinner.

“I think I have an idea,” she said, her fertile brain finally working again. Hoping she’d read Vera right. Because Bellamy’s career might depend on it.

XXXXXXXXXX

With the speeches finally over, Clarke had hoped to find a way to approach Vera alone, but it was not to be. The others at the table were amazed to find that the chairman of the board of trustees was headed their way.

“Hello,” Vera said pleasantly, nodding at the group. “Clarke,” she turned toward her, ”I’m so surprised to see you here.”

Clarke was sure she heard a gasp from the chairman of the history department, but she had time for only a quick glance in that direction before Vera Kane required her full attention.

“Hello, Vera,” Clarke said warmly, “It’s nice to see you again. You remember Bellamy,” she added, gesturing toward Bellamy with her left hand prominently on display. Praying that Vera Kane would turn out to be quick on the uptake.

Vera’s initial look of confusion was hardly unexpected. After all, it would be difficult for the woman to remember a man she’d never met. She noted the blink of surprise the very second Vera caught sight of the ring on Clarke’s finger.

Clarke wasn’t sure what finally did the trick, although it was possible Vera saw the sliver of panic on her face that she figured she hadn’t been able to completely hide. But whatever the reason, Vera’s expression of confusion suddenly vanished, and was immediately replaced by a friendly smile.

“Of course I remember him, dear,” she said cordially. “I’m sure you’ll agree that Bellamy is a man who’d be hard to forget.”

Clarke exhaled audibly. So far, so good.

“I wonder if I couldn’t borrow Clarke for a few minutes, Bellamy,” Vera added graciously. “I haven’t spoken to her mother in a while and I’d love to catch up.”

“Of course,” he said. “Take your time. Nice m-seeing you.”

“You, as well,” Vera nodded.

She took Clarke’s arm but waited until they’d moved halfway down the ballroom to a quiet alcove before the questioning began.

“Would you like to tell me what’s going on, Clarke? I know we’re not family yet, but I’m still quite certain I’d have heard about a wedding.”

Clarke took a deep breath. “Do you know Dr. Diana Sydney?” she asked carefully, hoping against hope that they weren’t bosom buddies.

“I’m afraid I do. I can’t say she’s my favorite department head, but I...tolerate the woman. I saw you were sitting at her table.”

“Yes, but not by choice. Look, I’m going to be straight with you, Vera, but I’m taking a big risk here. Not for me, but for Bellamy.”

Vera gave her a small smile. “Now we come to it. Did you elope and forget to tell Abby? Because honestly, I think she’d be delighted.”

Clarke shook her head and took a deep breath. “Bellamy and I aren’t really married. We’re just pretending to be because...Dr. Sydney was coming on to him and he just couldn’t figure out a way to make her stop. So he told her he was married, and I’m...helping him out.”

Vera gave a tiny gasp, and her eyes widened in surprise. “I’m sure the college must have rules about such things. Couldn’t he have complained?”

“Yes, of course,” Clarke nodded, “but she could easily deny it. If it were anyone else, he’d have just told her to back off, but the thing is... Dr. Sydney is the one who’s going to be writing an evaluation of his work. His appointment here was just for this one year and he’s already found a position for next year. But the offer won’t be finalized until they get her evaluation.”

“I...see. You know I can’t really help with that sort of complaint, Clarke.”

“Oh, no, Vera, I would never ask you to do that. Just...please don’t give us away. That’s all I’m asking. The evals come out in the next couple of days so we just need to get through tonight.”

Vera sighed, shook her head sadly. “It just makes my blood boil. That odious woman. I knew I never liked her. But as you say...difficult to prove and not really going to help his career.”

“But you do believe me.”

“Of course. With everything you told me about Bellamy at Christmas, you never actually mentioned what he looked like. Now that I’ve seen him, well, let’s just say his complaint is rather credible.”

“Thank you, Vera. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“I can see what it means to you, Clarke. I can see how much _he_ means to you. Does he know?”

Clarke colored, shook her head. “Not...yet.”

“Soon, Clarke. Tell him soon. And don’t worry about Dr. Sydney. I’ll be keeping an eye on her tonight.”

XXXXXXXXXX

With the briefest of farewells, Bellamy and Clarke skipped the dessert course in favor of an early departure. The coatroom was in total disarray, and their hunt for Clarke’s favorite coat eventually took them to the furthest dark corner. While Bellamy searched the racks, Clarke filled him in on her conversation with Vera Kane.

“Yeah, well, while you were off doing damage control,” he said, “Dr. Sydney tried to pump me about your relationship with Mrs. Kane.” Bellamy’s smile was wry as he rustled through the pile of coats.

Clarke snorted. “I’ll bet she did. I caught her expression when Vera showed up. I was a little thrown myself, but it all worked out.”

And that’s when it finally hit her. It was all really over. The stress of pretending to be Bellamy’s wife. _The thrill of pretending to be Bellamy’s wife._

It was also the moment when she knew that Vera was right.

Clarke decided she couldn’t put it off for even one more second.

“Bellamy.”

“Yeah?” he said without turning his head. “Wait! I think I see it.”

“Never mind the coat, Bellamy. I...need to talk to you.”

“Here? Now?” His face was wary as he turned toward her.

“Yes,” she nodded decisively, determined to follow through before she could come up with some excuse to put if off. “I don’t think I can wait.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “but before you say anything, Clarke, I need to thank you. I don’t know what the fuck I would have done if you hadn’t... stepped up. Probably...I don’t know... blown my stack and ruined my career. Or even worse, maybe just... given in to her out of sheer desperation.”

“Bellamy...”

“No, Clarke, just... let me finish.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “You are such a great friend. I can’t think of anyone else I would ever have asked to do this. Or anyone else who would have been crazy enough to agree.”

He paused, seeming to weigh his words, as Clarke waited, bewildered, for whatever the hell he was going to say next.

Bellamy sighed. “So I’m really grateful to you. But at the same time, I realize now it was way too much to ask. Way over the line. So if that’s what you were going to say,” he quirked a questioning brow at her, “you don’t have to bother.”

He gave her a rueful smile. “You are officially off the hook. I’ll never again ask you to be my fake wife.”

Clarke waited a moment. “Is that it, then? Everything you wanted to tell me.” She was champing at the bit, desperate to speak her piece before her courage failed her.

Bellamy hesitated as his eyes flicked briefly away from her. Then he sighed, finally opening his mouth as his face took on a determined expression.

But whatever else was on his mind was destined to remain unsaid. For right at that moment another voice joined the conversation.

“I’m really not sure how you could top that, Dr. Blake. Or why you’d even want to try. What could possibly follow _you no longer need to be my fake wife?”_

As she spoke, Diana Sydney moved around the corner from the next rack, where she’d been hidden by a sea of coats.

Clarke gasped in surprise, while Bellamy remained still, his face expressionless.

“You know, I followed you out because I was afraid I hadn’t put quite enough... effort into my relationship with your _wife_. A woman who appears to be extraordinarily well-connected.”

Sydney paused, her lips twisted in a cold smile.

“But this revelation is so much more... interesting. Really, Dr. Blake, a fake wife? I’d never have thought you had it in you.”

She wore an expression of smug self-satisfaction, and Clarke wanted to slap it right off her face.

When he failed to respond, Dr. Sydney gave an exaggerated shrug. “It’s so unfortunate that my evaluation will now have to include the information that Dr. Bellamy Blake is a liar. That he lied about his personal life in a most egregious manner. So perhaps you shouldn’t count on getting that new position after all.”

She glanced at him archly. “Still nothing to say, Dr. Blake? You aren’t planning to go to your prospective employer and try to deny it, are you? It’s not like there aren’t plenty of witnesses...”

“No, Diana, I don’t think Bellamy would deny it. Unlike you, the man has some ethics.”

Dr. Sydney wheeled at the new voice, and Clarke gaped in surprise when Vera Kane came into view.

“You might want to rethink your association with this woman’s family, Vera. Because it appears she’s nothing more nor less than a con artist. She’s colluded with Dr. Blake here in a fake marriage. Absurd, of course, but there you have it.”

She shrugged her shoulders dismissively.

“I know all about that, Diana,” Vera nodded. “But what I find even more intriguing is the reason _why_ they did it. How will you explain that one of your employees was so unnerved by his boss’s unwelcome advances that he felt obliged to actually invent a wife? I’m absolutely certain that your colleagues would be appalled that he had to go to such lengths, especially nowadays. Times are changing, Diana, and you might want to consider changing with them.”

As she listened, Dr. Sydney’s face became mottled with anger. But she faced Vera Kane with bravado.

“He... you can’t possibly prove such accusations, Vera,” she blustered, her chin rising and her eyes flashing.

“Perhaps not. But the point here is that _I_ believe him. And my opinion carries a lot of weight at this institution. Not in the area of personnel, of course. Although,” she appeared to reconsider, “a small word, a discreet question dropped here or there, might make people begin to wonder.”

Vera’s brows rose and she gave Diana a pointed look.

“But I certainly have a great deal of influence with the budgets. And there are always a lot of departments vying for those _extra_ funds. It would be most unfortunate if the history department suffered because of the... unsavory actions of its department head.”

Clarke’s head began to spin as she watched the gracious and respectable Vera Kane unhesitatingly blackmail Diana Sydney.

“What do you want, Vera?” Dr. Sydney ground out the question between gritted teeth.

“Well, my dear, I’ve spent some time this evening asking many of your colleagues about Dr. Blake, and they all seem to agree that he’s the best young teacher they’ve seen for quite a while. That he has a bright future ahead of him. So what I’d like from you, Diana, is an evaluation that reflects Dr. Blake’s talents and not one that reflects your... disappointment. And I’ll be making it my business to read that evaluation personally.”

For a few moments the quiet in the coatroom was broken only by the sound of Dr. Sydney’s harsh breathing.

“You can come to my office for your evaluation tomorrow, Dr. Blake,” she said finally, without even glancing his way.

“Thank you, Dr. Sydney.” It was the first time either of them had spoken since Sydney entered the room. “I’ll be bringing Clarke with me.”

She gave a sharp nod before making her way past Vera and out the coatroom door.

“Mrs. Kane...”

“Vera...”

They both spoke at once but Vera just shook her head. “I always knew there was something a bit off about that woman. Give me a call, Clarke, when you get that evaluation. Abby has my number. Lovely to finally meet you, Bellamy. I asked Clarke at Christmas but she wasn’t quite ready to take the leap of faith.”

“I’ll never be able to thank you, Mrs. Kane.”

“Don’t be silly, Bellamy. I apologize on behalf of this institution. Now maybe you two should just...skedaddle,” she said as she followed Diana Sydney out the door.

“Oh, my god, I can’t believe that just happened.” Clarke was still processing the entire scene.

“And I can’t believe it’s really over. Or at least it will be tomorrow.”

XXXXXXXXXX

They were so eager to leave the place that it wasn’t until they were back in Bellamy’s car that Clarke remembered that when Diane Sydney had burst in on them with her threats, Bellamy had been just about to tell her something. And then, of course, she’d never gotten her own chance to speak at all.

She cleared her throat noisily. “Just before Dr. Sydney ambushed us, I think... weren’t you about to say something to me?”

Bellamy shrugged. “It’s... not important, Clarke.”

Clarke could feel her frustration rising. She’d seen the look on Bellamy’s face — like he was working up to something. And now she wasn’t to know what that something _was_? Dr. Bitch had more to answer for than ever.

“I’d... honestly love to hear whatever it was...”

“I’m really tired,” Bellamy cut her off before she could even finish voicing the thought. “I’d kinda like to get home and just... put this night behind us. Okay?”

Bellamy glanced at her uncertainly as he made the request, and after the roller-coaster of emotions he’d been through that evening, Clarke didn’t have the heart to push it. Maybe he’d feel like talking when they got home.

But as soon as the door closed behind them, Bellamy muttered a soft _good night_ before moving toward his room with the speed of light.

 _Tomorrow_ , she promised herself, not at all certain she wouldn’t spontaneously combust out of sheer frustration before morning ever came.

An hour later, her bed rumpled from the tossing and turning, Clarke threw off the covers in exasperation and headed towards the kitchen for a snack. She never got that far, stopping short instead when she saw a beam of light from under Bellamy’s door.

Was it possible he was still awake? As she stood there, stock still, the idea began to percolate through her brain that maybe she wouldn’t have to wait until morning after all. Maybe she could have her say _right fucking now._

Before she had time to talk herself out of it, Clarke was rapping on Bellamy’s door and calling out softly.

“Bellamy, are you awake?”

He made no response, but by now Clarke was a woman on a mission, and she refused to be thwarted. She opened his door slowly, peeking around the corner with one eye open, hoping desperately that what came into view would be blankets and sleepwear.

She found Bellamy lying in bed and reading by the light of his small bedside lamp. The earbuds he pulled out as soon as he saw her probably explained why he hadn’t responded to her knock.

“Clarke! What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

They’d never made a habit of invading each other’s privacy, so she wasn’t surprised that he was startled by her sudden appearance.

“Nothing’s wrong, Bellamy,” she said, padding across the room to sit gingerly on the edge of his bed. “Or... I don’t know, maybe everything’s wrong.”

“What does that mean?”

She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. It was now or never.

“You didn’t want to finish our earlier conversation...”

“Clarke...”

“No, I know. You changed your mind about...whatever it was. But did you remember that I also had something to say? Before... everything happened?”

He nodded and sighed, and when he spoke his words were slow and reluctant. “I suppose this is about you... moving out.”

“You want me to move out?” She felt a jolt to her heart and her stomach plummeted.

“ _What?_ No! Of course I don’t! But I figured...isn’t that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

She frowned. “What the hell would ever give you that idea?

“Well, Jesus, Clarke! It was bad enough I got you involved in that crazy con. But then tonight I made you look bad in front of Mrs. Kane. Isn’t her son marrying your mom? What the hell will she think...”

Clarke laughed and shook her head. “I’m pretty sure Vera had no illusions about me, Bellamy. And I didn’t come in here to talk about moving out.”

“Then... what was it? What couldn’t wait?” She could see his jaw working, a sure sign of confusion and distress.

All this time she’d been putting off talking to him, dreading making a fool of herself, afraid of losing his friendship. But now that she’d come to it, Clarke could feel nothing but relief.

 _He’d been so afraid she wanted to move out._ She took courage from that, and hope, and forced the words past the lump in her throat.

“Bellamy, have you ever thought about us being... more than just roommates?”

He stared at her for a moment, as though he couldn’t quite process what it was she’d just said. Then he sat up a little straighter, moving his body closer to hers.

“Have I ever thought about it, Clarke? About what it would be like to actually _be_ with you.” Bellamy sighed and shrugged. “Only every fucking day for more than a year.”

Within the space of two heartbeats, that little bit of hope in Clarke’s heart began to grow and grow. And then she smiled at him, the kind of smile she’d never allowed herself before, one that laid bare everything she felt for him.

When she reached up to stroke her hand across his cheek, his skin was warm beneath her fingers and she saw his pulse leap in his throat.

“Clarke,” he breathed out her name on a sigh, and caught her hand, kissing the palm.

She suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe. Like there was a constriction somewhere in her chest. And the way Bellamy was looking at her...

“If I’d had any idea how much torture it was going to be, having you pretend to be my wife, I’d never have asked you. And then, that night in the bar when I saw you with that guy, I felt stupid and guilty because I was preventing you from dating. But, fuck, Clarke! I didn’t _want_ you dating that guy. I didn’t want you dating anyone...”

“Well, that works out perfectly then,” she said, sliding up the edge of the bed, so that now they were very, very close. “Because I don’t want to date anyone but you.”

She both heard and felt his quick intake of breath. “Are you sure?”

Clarke thought there was probably only one really good way of convincing him.

Her other hand came up to cup his cheek, and in an instant she was sliding her lips across his. They were soft, softer than she ever would have imagined. And warm. She felt tingly all over and couldn’t imagine how she’d ever waited so long.

And Bellamy was kissing her back like he’d been starved for the taste of her.

They twisted and turned, trying to get closer still, until finally Bellamy pulled back the sheet and lifted her up so she was lying fully atop his body. And through it all their mouths were fused together in deep, wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“Clarke,” Bellamy moaned out her name as they finally came up for air. “Maybe we should... slow this down a little.”

She rested her head in his shoulder, panting softly, reaching up to stroke along one side of his jaw while scattering tiny rosebud kisses along the other.

“Should we wait another year, then, Bellamy? Have a proper courtship? Drive ourselves even more fucking nuts?”

Bellamy chuckled. “Maybe not.”

“That’s what I figured,” she said, lifting herself off him only long enough to remove her tank top.

When she settled herself back, her hard-pointed nipples scraping along his naked chest, Bellamy groaned deeply, reaching up to cup her generous breasts.

“I’ve wanted to be with you for so long,” he whispered in her ear as he continued to stroke along her body.

After that, Clarke didn’t hear a single other word about slowing down.

XXXXXXXXXX

Almost a year later to the day — Clarke made very sure it was still May, because she didn’t want to hear any bullshit from Raven about being a “cheesy June bride” — the formerly fake Clarke Griffin-Blake became Clarke Griffin-Blake _in fact_. Wife of Dr. Bellamy Blake, newly-minted Assistant Professor of history.

Although it wasn’t a particularly traditional ceremony, they did take special care to ensure that Clarke’s step-grandmother, Vera Kane, had a lovely corsage and a place of honor in the proceedings. Vera asked to speak at the reception and gave a very thoughtful speech that made it clear she was very fond of both Clarke and Bellamy. A few people thought it was odd that she ended her short toast with a quote from, of all people, Dr. Seuss.

_“We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.”_

But Clarke and Bellamy didn’t think it odd at all. In fact, they were pretty sure she knew them damn well.

Just before they left for their honeymoon, the bride and groom reminded their officiant — yet again — to make sure their marriage was properly recorded.

That brought a laugh from the woman, a Justice of the Peace who, Clarke knew, had performed many marriage ceremonies.

“Is there some reason why you think the validity of your marriage might be questioned?” she asked with a curious smile.

Clarke quirked an eye at Bellamy, who grinned and shook his head.

“Well,” she finally said with a wry smile. “I suppose you just never know.”


End file.
